Beyond Riches: The Inexplainable Trillionaire

Chapter 8: The Card

Minutes later, a woman stepped out of the bank. She was in her late twenties, sleek ponytail, cream-colored suit that fit like it was stitched onto her. Everything about her radiated competence. Behind her stood Brian, hovering like an anxious fly. She scanned the compound, eyes landing on Ethan in his shabby uniform and bruised face.

Ethan walked toward her. Brian rushed forward, blocking him. "Stay back!" His voice cracked. "One more step and I'll have you arrested!"

Ethan ignored him, looking past him at the woman. "Are you Austin Ross's PA?"

Her eyes sparked with interest. "Are you Ethan?"

"I am, I was invited here personally by Austin Ross."

She turned to Brian, whose hand was raised to physically block Ethan. "Stop," she commanded. Brian's hand froze. "Miss Samson, you don't understand he is a pauper, our elite clients are threatening to boycott..."

"I said stop. Did you not hear me the first time?"

Brian's mouth opened and closed, silent.

She extended her hand to Ethan. "My name is Golden Samson, personal assistant to President Austin Ross. He sent me to bring you in." She gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we? You've been standing in the sun too long."

"Lead the way." Ethan said calmly.

Golden bowed slightly and escorted Ethan through the revolving doors. Brian trailed behind, with his face a mess of confusion and fear. The moment they entered the lobby, every head turned. From their seats, Brad muttered, "What the hell? Why is Golden Samson escorting him?"

Jason stared. "She's one of the most powerful women in this bank. What lie did he tell?"

They watched as Golden led Ethan past the elite clients who had mocked him earlier. Jason couldn't contain himself. He stepped into their path. "Excuse me," he addressed Golden with a forced smile. "Miss Samson, do you know who that guy is?"

"What business is that of yours?"

Celia hurried to Jason's side, clutching Brad's arm. "You can't let him near the bank. He's a fraud and a lowlife in every sense."

Golden turned to face her fully. "And who are you?"

Celia lifted her chin. "My name is Celia Morgan, I am Brad Charlesly's girlfriend."

Golden looked at Brad, then back at Celia. "And what status does Miss Morgan's family hold in this city? In this country?"

Celia's mouth opened and stayed open.  She had nothing to say, her family had no status. She was a scholarship student, just like Ethan had been.

"That's what I thought," Golden said. "You have no standing to speak to me about who belongs in this bank."

Brad stepped forward, face hardening. "Now wait a minute, you can't talk to my girlfriend like..."

"I'll tell you what I can do." Golden's voice cut like a blade. "I can allow you to remain in this bank despite your rudeness, only because your family and Jason's are long-term loyal clients. But interfere with bank business one more time, and I will have you all thrown out. Do I make myself clear?"

Brad's face went red, Jason stared at the floor and Celia's face went white. "Crystal," Brad managed.

Golden nodded. "Now step aside."

They moved. As Ethan passed, he caught Celia's eye with a triumphant smile and said nothing.

The elite clients who had mocked him were now on their feet, uneasy. The heavyset man whispered urgently to the diamond-dripping woman. The gray-haired man who had threatened to boycott the bank gripped his cane. "Brian! Do something!"

Brian, still stinging, gathered his courage and hurried after Golden near the private elevators. "Miss Samson, I must protest. Our elite customers are deeply unhappy, the bank's reputation..."

Golden spun and two slaps cracked across his face, fast as lightning, echoing off the marble walls. Brian stumbled back, clutching his face, his eyes wide with terror.

"If you ever confront me about a client I am personally escorting again," she said, deadly calm, "you won't just be fired, you will be blacklisted from every financial institution in this country. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Samson," he whispered.

"Now get out of my sight." She said.

Brian scurried to a corner, with his cheek already red. Golden turned to face the cluster of elite clients, who shrank back. "Which of you," she asked, ringing through the lobby, "has a net worth of at least fifty billion dollars?"

There was silence in the lobby and no hands were raised. "Forty billion?" Still silence. "Thirty?" Still no hands. "Twenty-five?" Three hands went up, slow and uncertain.

Golden surveyed them. "The rest of you range from five to ten billion, correct?" Nervous nods. "Then let me make something very clear." Her voice dropped to something almost gentle, making it more terrifying. "Every single one of you is nothing compared to this man. If any of you so much as murmur about him again, the bank will call in your loans, every last one. I don't need to tell you what happens to your businesses and lifestyles when Spirit Bank withdraws its backing."

The lobby fell to absolute silence. Spirit Bank was the backbone of nearly every billionaire in the city. If the bank pulled out, most of them would go bankrupt overnight. The heavyset man sat down slowly, the diamond woman covered her mouth and the gray-haired man's cane clattered to the floor.

"Good, now remember your place." Golden led Ethan to the private elevator.

Brad, Jason, and Celia watched from across the lobby, disbelief twisting their faces. "How is this happening?" Jason whispered. "She said Ethan is worth more than all those elites combined. That's insane."

Celia shook her head. "He can be persuasive, that is how he got me. But Golden Samson isn't some lovesick scholarship student. Sooner or later, they will find out he is a fraud and execute him for making fools of them. We just have to wait."

"It's only a matter of time," Brad agreed. "When he falls, we'll be there to watch." They settled in, suddenly more interested in Ethan's downfall than their own business.

The private elevator rose to the sixty-seventh floor. The executive suite stretched before them, glass walls and panoramic city views. Golden led Ethan down a corridor to a set of double doors. Just as they reached them, the doors swung open and Austin Ross stepped out. Distinguished, silver-haired, impeccably dressed. His face lit up. "Young Master Ethan! Finally. I'm so sorry about all the..."

He stopped as Ray Steflon stepped out of the office behind him. Ethan's fists clenched as every instinct screamed for him to lunge and return every slap threefold, but he held himself back. Ray saw him and his face contorted with disgust. "What in God's name is this stench doing here?" He looked at Austin with disbelief. Ray was everything a woman dreamed of and everything a man envied. He was tall, broad-shouldered, perfect features, perfect clothes, and behind it all, the power of his father, Donald Steflon.

"This is the guy I slapped outside," Ray said. "Why is he in your office?"

Austin's face flickered through several expressions. "Mr. Steflon, Ethan is a high-valued client. I invited him to resolve some account issues."

"A high-valued client?" Ray laughed. "Look at him, he is wearing rags."

"Nevertheless," Austin pressed, strained, "I must apologize to Ethan for the incident outside, and to you for the fact that Ethan bumped into you."

Ray's eyes narrowed. "I don't want apologies. I want him thrown out and punished severely for putting his filthy hands on me."

"Mr. Steflon, surely..."

"I don't have time for this. I need to prepare for my date tonight, Amelia Freeman, perhaps you've heard of her?" Ethan's jaw tightened. Ray was talking about Amelia like she was already his. "So deal with this fool right now, or Spirit Bank will face the consequences. You know exactly what my father can do."

Austin's face went pale. Everyone knew Spirit Bank owed its ten-trillion-dollar empire to investments from the Silvercrest family, deals orchestrated by Donald Steflon himself. If the Steflons turned on them, the bank would crumble.

"I understand, Mr. Steflon," Austin said weakly. "You go enjoy your date. I will personally deal with the young mister here."

"Good am send me evidence it's been handled properly." Ray straightened his jacket. "Now excuse me." He walked past Ethan, deliberately slamming his shoulder into him. Ethan didn't flinch. "Amelia, you are not going to be anything to a guy like that. I'll make sure he regrets every slap, every smug word," Ethan said to himself. He had always loved Amelia, from the first moment, but she'd been so far out of his league he'd never let himself dream. That's why he had to settled for Celia.

The elevator doors closed behind Ray. Austin turned to Ethan, his face hardening. "I'm sorry, but you heard him. I have no choice but to deal with you to some degree, just enough to appease the Steflons. I don't want to do this, but you understand my position. The Steflons made this bank."

Ethan laughed, soft and almost pitying.

"What's funny?" Austin demanded.

"Do you know who I am?" Ethan said.

Austin and Golden exchanged a look. "Your account is a student account, opened years ago with barely any activity. Last night, a hundred billion dollars was transferred into it from Donald Steflon himself, a transfer that may very well be a mistake. Now you are standing here, dressed like a janitor, claiming to be someone important. Who exactly are you supposed to be?"

"Someone bigger than the Steflons," Ethan responded with a wide grin.

Austin burst out laughing. "Bigger than the Steflons? The right hand of the Silvercrest Clan? You must be joking."

Ethan didn't argue, at this point words were useless. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the access card Donald had given him, and held it out.

The card read: Ethan Silvercrest, Heir to the Silvercrest Family.

Austin's laughter stopped like a switch, Golden gasped. They stared at the card for one heartbeat, then dropped to their knees. Both of them, Austin Ross, president of a ten-trillion-dollar empire, and Golden Samson, pressed their faces to the floor. They didn't need to verify the card. There was only one family on earth that could put that name on that card. The lost heir had just walked into their bank.